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You've Got Friends in the Guild
[Introduction to this blood-splattered piece of propaganda] Unkind people say to me, 'But how come the Guild carved up the Lower City like so much pumpkin? Slicing it into segments for kingpins to rule from the shadows?' To which I can only shrug, and reply, 'Delegation, mate. How else are they supposed to get anything done?' To carry the analogy a bit, the pumpkin was ripe, and if it weren't cut by the Guild, somebody else would have. Me, I'm grateful it was Nine Fingers and her organisation what got the carving knife out. Unlike a lot of vested interest in this city, the Guild actually want what's best for the city. Their view is this: if you got to have crime, better it be organised crime! |
Yoshimo is Willing
[A revisionist sensation novella, with a blurb.] In this alternate history sex adventure, the one and only Yoshimo does not betray the Bhaalspawn. In fact, he does almost anything the Bhaalspawn asks for, very readily.’ |
Yearning for the Moon
So much has changed in our fair town. The moon used to shine so brightly here. We'd all stand out, our shoulders bared, our faces upturned, drinking in her blessings like milk. Such darkness now. I must watch the moon in secret, from my window or late at night when the town's asleep. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the last sane person left in Reithwin. |
Ye Follye of Karsus
[This ancient water-damaged tome is largely illegible except for the following.] ...did Karsus, mystic, autodidact, in all his vainglory, disdainful as ever of received wisdom, proclaim that, crisis-bound, he would safeguard the magic tapestry of all wizardry by supplanting the failing weavegod Mystryl with another immortal guardian, wiser and stronger of mind. Who could that be, asked the Netherese, amazed, and Karsus gave them reply, Who but I? Have I not mastered all spells that are known and divers others that are not? Have I not forged this Crown, thrice-finialed, that shall convey into my brainmind all the enchanted wisdom of Netheril - yea, indeed, and of Mystryl herself? It shall be so! Canst thou but wait, implored Lord Shadow, until... |
Writings of a Wroot
[A journal written by Barcus Wroot, worried about his friend's Wulbren violent desire to bring down the Gondian Gnomes. His plan to blow up the Steel Watch Factory is horrendous to contemplate; there must be a way to avoid causing so many deaths.] |
Writin Exorcises
[A series of writing exercises outlined by Thrumbo, addressed to 'my brothers'. Beneath the exercises, several misguided attempts to write the letters of the alphabet, none successful.] |
Wizardsbane Oil Recipe
Yet another good day! They are strung out on a string like pearls, long may they continue. My pain is still bad (a dragonborn without scales is, as most people can tell simply looking at me, immensely ache-worthy and sore, but yes, indeed, another fine and fair day. I sat outside the Elfsong and enjoyed a bit of sun, and there my new friend Deimric found me. Deimric is a human, once naive and now a little wiser. A solid adventurer, much like my old (and perhaps never-to-be-seen-again) friend Nikros. Deimric asked me if he could learn to brew something that would counteract all these spellcasters he's ben coming up against recently in his wanderings and mercenary work. I outlined the following: Prepare Essence of Gremishka Tail with any Suspension and you will derive one does of Oil of Wizardsbane. Very useful against pesky spellcasters. Deimric clapped me on the back, apologising profusely as I winced and grumbled. In truth I did not mind. Friendship and a little sunshine had softened me a touch. Another good day indeed! |
Wizards of Note: Lorroakan (Editor's Edition)
[This book appears to be a bespoke edition, not mass-printed like others in the series. A note is affixed to the front page] Dear sir, Though I appreciate your attempt to contribute to our popular series, I'm afraid we are not accepting reader submissions at this time. Furthermore, I would recommend our fact checker, Hope Candor, for your personal employ should you wish to attempt to publish this volume under a different name elsewhere. Kind regards, Embra Coyle |
Winery Records
[A ledger of wines sold by the Monastery] 1 bottle - 1 pan 3 bottles - gold donation 2 bottles - 1 cat 10 bottles - large donation 5 bottles - donation of herbs |
Whipping Up Booms
[A well-worn book of recipes for explosives, this tome's pages are stuck together with gum, sulphur paste, and ingredients you can't quite identify.] OIL OF COMBUSTION FROM the heart of a magma mephit (or two or three) you can craft a powerful oil that, when applies to your weapons, will set your foe alight with the force of your passion for explosive-craft! In a fray most memorable, I once used a well-timed application of Oil of Combustion to light my young son's birthday candle - and to keep the local bully tom cat at bay from the cake. |
When Love Fumbles
[The book falls open to a page in the middle of this spine-broken print.] |
What Abides Below
Plamondon tells us that Grey Harbour was a small coastal village before Balduran returned with his vast sea-treasure and founded a great city here. But the vast subterranean ruins hidden beneath our modern city's sewer system tell a very different story. There was a city on the bight of the Lower Chionthar ages before Balduran built his Seatower, a metropolis of grand boulevards and granite towers open to the sky before the unknown cataclysm that split them to their foundations and then swallowed them into the bedrock. Who were these forgotten people who lived in the age before Balduran? Perhaps more importantly, who or what still lives in the ruins of that tumbledown port town below? What things, creatures, or creations, lurk deep beneath our streets - and do they have designs on what we like to think of as our world on the surface above? |
Web-Covered Journal
[This book's leaves are stuck together with thick webbing that leeches ink when pulled from the page. Only the final entry remains remotely legible.] It is time. I will forever transcend this blasphemous flesh and refashion myself in the Queen's image. No longer will I be bound to this lowly form, this base shape of organ and bone. Even the arachnomancers of Menzoberranzan shall weep at my feet, their little spells so feeble and fleeting. Today, I found the house of Lolth, and I shall be its Matriarch. |
Wealth Offering to Bhaal
Lord Bhaal, the poison that quack sold me was not effective diluted in the ale. Writhing failure of a slave that I am, I offer all of the gouted landlord's gold, grifted from deviants in their excess. I pray only it can fund a mighty homicide, and one day my corpse may sip on gall-goblets with you, in your domain. |
Warming the Melancholy Heart
[A self-help book, purporting to help those suffering from melancholia.] What of sadness, dear reader, that assails you without rhyme or reason? What if the sunniest of days can become smothered in gloom, with no end in sight? The remedy may seem non-existent, but it is not so. No heart that beats is a stranger to that which gives it joy - you must seek it out however you can. Music can lift moods as easily as flame can melt ice. [The book continues on at great length, suggesting treatments pioneered by the House of Grief may help, should self-improvement fail.] |
Wall of the Faithless
At the core of the Fugue Plane's barren ash-gray wasteland stands the City of Judgement with its Crystal Spire jutting above the streets and the influx of souls. These are godly folk seeing the verdict of those ruling Fugue, their faces hopeful or sullen, their boot heels caked in the mud of peridition. Yet for those who claimed no godly patronage in life, there is only the wall. The wall erected by Myrkul, Lord of Bones, to keep those of insubstantial faith from any possible form of peace. See it gored and clawed-at by the desperate, clung with fingernails, flecked with smashed skulls. How Myrkul enjoys his petty torments. |
Volo's Guide to Spirits and Spectres
[This appears to be the barely-legible notes of a work heavily in progress.] - Ghost - Banshee - Poltergeist - Spooky? (???) 1 mugful ice 1/2 mugful distilled potato spirits 3 thimbles citrus juice garnish with mint |
Volo's Guide to Baldur's Gate (Signed)
For my adventuresome muse - Our fates are bound, my wisdom vast, I dearly hope our kinship lasts! Deepest affections, Volothamp Geddarm Poet Artist Savant etc. [A poorly drawn map of a city is captioned in flamboyant script:] What follows is the most thorough and accurate account of the city and people of Baldur's Gate, the sordid gem of the Sword Coast. -- [An editor's note in crimson ink follows:] V - This volume is startlingly accurate, save for the nonsense about the Black Dragon Gate. It is NOT alive, no matter how many vagrant hags claim otherwise. Commission someone else to draw the map. E |
Volo's Complete Guide to the Behaviour of Nymphs
[The book is handwritten in a swinging scrawl. The red ink of an eager editor slashes through most of its contents. Two inscriptions, each in a different hand, are scribbled inside the cover:] Absolutely not. --- Dearest Elminster, While you may lack imagination, nymphs, I assure you, do not. Nor does the public that eagerly awaits this work. I will refrain from publishing this piece for now, but only that I may conduct a more extensive bout of research. Your friend these many years, Researcher Raconteur |
Violet's Diary
Hee hee, the garlic in Yousen's bed gave him a nasty rash - serves him right for being such a whining runt. Now, if only I could get at that snob Leon and his brat of a daughter, but she's protected. Cazador must have a fine plan for little Victoria, I wonder what it is? |
Veterinary Log
[The words 'Veterinary Log' are crossed out at the top of the ledger. 'Meat yield' is written underneath.] Steed: Stallion K3 Status: ['Healthy' is stricken through.] Butchered Yield: 43 stone Steed: Mare A2 Yield: 40 stone Steed: Stallion K1 Status: ['Diseased' is stricken through.] Butchered Yield: 35 stone Total delivered to House of Healing food stores: 118 stone. |
Veronica Hamperclips and her Adventures Beyond The Washbasin
[The novel tells the story of Veronica 'Ronnie' Hamperclips, who has been tumbled by her demeaning and mean-spirited husband into having more children than she wanted. Now it seems she is ceaselessly spending her days at the washbasin, cleaning a neverending supply of dirty things. She escapes this when she solves the unsolvable riddle of the almost disturbingly handsome faerie prince, Rigel. Whisked to a world of faerie court politics and duels, Ronnie has a marvellous time, and doesn't miss her damn children or her awful husband one bit. This is escapist fantasy, treacle potboiling of the treacliest variety, and it is glorious.] |
Vault Pass Ledger
[The ledger lists months of passes issued for entry into the vaults below. Recent entries list passes given to a representative of Cazador Szarr, a clerk fetching a ring for Lady Jarreth, and most recently to a large, unnamed man - personally escorted by Head Banker Glitterbeard.] |
Vampiric Duality
[Excerpt from Telshum Ver Condle's Vampiric Duality] Now look, the thing is: your basic vampire has two instincts, right? Feed and make little vampires. Nonsense. Utter crap. No such thing as a basic anything. The personality of a vampire has as many facets as a schizophrenic diamond. [This statement seems contradicted only a few paragraphs later] Naturally, when you come down to it, the unidimensional qualities inherent to the vampire make them ideal predators. Their minds are narrow scarlet threads of cruelty spooled over a yarnball of ravenous hunger. [And only a few paragraphs later...] Yet who doesn't adore the darkly romantic complexity of the vampire, the gusto of their love, the wildness of their passion! |
Valarken's Failed Coup
[This is a popular-history account of Grand Duke Valarken's attempt to usurp the power of Baldur's Gate's Council of Four, in which he staged a failed coup backed by a cult of lycanthropes called the Band of the Red Moon. There are several notes in the margins in Gortash's precise handwriting, with the following scrawled in the endpaper: 'Two lessons - First, assassination alone isn't enough, and second, Duke Dillard Portyr lived through this, so don't underestimate him.'] |
Urban Exploration - The Undercity!
Intrepid hobbyists who pursue the urban exploration of Baldur's Gate will find no greater challenge than that offered by discovering the dark realm beneath the city's streets. Everyone knows, of course, that the city's sanitation needs are served by extensive sewer tunnels through which water flows, carrying wastes downhill into Grey Harbour. Once you find your way into these sewers through one of the round street access hatches, you will enter a noisome but intriguing domain, haunted mainly by the half-civilised kobold tribe that maintains the pipes and culverts. And somewhere, hidden in its far corners, the sewers are said to connect to the long-forgotten tunnels of the truly haunted Undercity Ruins! It's thrilling to think about exploring that dangerous region, but for liability reasons this author cannot recommend it. |
Unsigned Trade Visa
[An unsigned writ suggests a counterfeit-in-progress; whoever made it was planning to trade illegally within the tollhouse.] |
Unsent Sending
[A short note marked up as a professional sending - a magical message of up to 25 words, intended to find the recipient wherever they might be. This copy was never given over to a cleric for delivery.] No. I don't know what to do. So come back and tell me, or I'll come find you. Death will not protect you. Idiot. |
Unpublished Portents
Unpublished Portents by Katie Lowlochden. As a blend of aeromancy - the art of divining the future from atmospheric conditions - and hydromancy - diviation through water - fog divination represents an experimental and as yet inconclusive praxis. Take the cases of Grey Harbour and Baldur's Gate. Soothsayers took to crafting masks from the dense, milk-pale fog blanketing these places, the expressions on those masks indicating positive or negative outcomes in the lives of those who originally commissioned them. Now those banks of fog have retreated, presenting an intriguing omen all its own... |
U.R.: For the Absolute's Glory
[This journal was penned by Grand Duke Ravengard after his illithid infection. Early entries thrill in the wonder of the Absolute's voice, praising the truth of Her message and the resplendent future for whish Baldur's Gate is destined. The most recent entries, recorded after Ravengard was brought to the Iron Throne, reflect a different mind: one fighting for the release from the Absolute's grip.} Absolute, my goddess, how you fill me with the joy and peace of believing, how I abound in your glNO NO DAMNED VOICE SHAKE IT OFF SHAKE ITory. I was bound by lies, but in you did I seeHELLS STOP ITthe error of m... |
Tymora, Lady Luck
[A list of oaths and sayings that ought to incur Tymora's blessing, granting the speaker good luck!] 1. By Lady Lucks's Smile 2. Turntable Tymora, I Invoke Thee 3. By The Rolling Of My Dice, Please Let These Results Be Nice 4. Spin, Spin, Oh Fickle Fate Wheel! 5. Lady of the Diamond-Glitter Dice, Mistress of Good Fortune, Sovereign of Luck, Please Have Mercy On Me, For Fuck's Sake |
Tym's Notebook
[This journal is filled with sketches of dresses, notes on unusual stitches, and several intricately-detailed embroidery patterns.] |
Tusky Grins
[Excerpt from Joyce Ringwarble's Tusky Grins What I don't understand is why they are not simply rounded up and sterilised. When I confront people with that idea, some nod, and smile, and make placid little comments. Some grimace or laugh and move swiftly on. Some actually recoil. And there are those who grow angry, and it is to them I relate this story: My cousin, Penelope, spent her life championing half-orcs (and all piggy-eyed orcish peoples) in her writing. She interviewed and befriended many of their kind, and one day, without warning, one of them took her daughter from her crib, and he ate her. Not gobbled up. Nothing fairytale here. He chewed the child's fingers while she screamed and waved a bloody stump. And he smiled at my cousin. That was what drove her mad, I think. Beware, dear reader. Beware their tusky grins. |
Treatise on the Antimagic Properties of Sussur Tree Flowers
THE ANTIMAGIC PROPERTIES OF SUSSUR TREE FLOWERS By L. De Hurst For those knowing about sussur trees, their magical properties have always been a topic of debate; not only their ability to create an antimagic aura, which is complete enough that even those unattuned to the Weave can feel its effect, but also - and most interestingly to those living in the World Above - the ways its roots, bark, and flowers can be harnessed to make magic items. Rumours of such items are rare, but spread in settlements bordering the Underdark. Their existence, however, has never been confirmed by any of our clerics, nor by any other reputable scholars. I hypothesised that these items are no mere legends, and indeed, in this treatise I will endeavour to explain how I myself created items that have antimagic properties, and that use the magical absorption of sussur tree flowers as a power source. [Lines have been drawn on the following pages, as if the author intended to fill them with writing, but the remainder of the thin book is blank.] |
Traveller's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol. VIII: The Outer City
... overland travellers nearing Baldur's Gate have been known to smell the city before they clap eyes on it. This is thanks to what is known as the Outer City - the area that houses much of what Baldur's Gate needs to survive and thrive, but at the same time would rather not keep within its walls. Tanneries, stockyards, slaughterhouses, saltworks and less-than-regulated markets abound here, as well shanties and camps for the less fortunate souls who are drawn to the city. It is the author's firm opinion that respectable travellers should never dawdle in such a place, no matter how tempting its base attractions may be after a long journey. Instead they should make way promptly (while paying strict attention to any valuables on their person or in their baggage) then see about presenting themselves to one of the main entrances to the Lower City, such as the famed Basilisk Gate. Once entry has been secured, they can consider themselves in the city proper... |
Traveller's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol. IV: The Risen Road
[The stained, well-thumbed pages filled with travelling advice that seems to be decades out of date] ... those who seek to journey to the coast from the interior regions lying to the east will typically seek out the Risen Road. Running parallel to the River Chionthar, the Risen Road provides an overland route all the way from Elturel to Baldur's Gate, and has proven tempting to travellers seeking an alternate to the river barges that sail the Chionthar. A portion of the road approximately halfway between Elturel and Baldur's Gate has in recent years developed into an enclave for Selûne worship, with a temple of not insignificant splendour lying near the road. Indeed an entire village, Moonhaven, has developed alongside the temple, and can provide food and shelter to weary travellers. Farther east lies the citadel of Moonrise Towers, where a toll is required for onward passage of goods and folk alike. Some are tempted to go off-road in order to avoid the toll, however bandits and other dangers may cause them to pay a much steeper price... |
Traveller's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IX: Inns and Guesthouses
...with the dust of their journey still clinging to boot and cloak, the canny traveller will no doubt seek to secure accommodation within the city, post-haste. Below are some establishments that are typical of what the city has to offer: The Blade and Stars Easily identified by its sign - a wooden shield boasting a curved blade against a field of stars... [A handwritten scrawl in the margins notes that the sign is currently not in place.] ...this inn is comfortable, quiet, and highly recommended for travellers seeking to recuperate from their journey. Expect unassuming fare at a reasonable price, moderately clean rooms, and passably clean patrons. The Blushing Mermaid For those seeking an altogether rowdier night in the city, The Blushing Mermaid should be the first port of call. Named for the life-sized wooden mermaid on display, this inn is known for its ill-reputed patrons, frequent brawls, and altogether unsavoury reputation. Nevertheless, I feature it here owing to great interest from my readership. I can only advise that you exercise extreme vigilance should you choose this establishment. Elfsong Tavern [Most of this passage is illegible due to water damage, apart from the words and phrases nearest to the inner margins.] ...dimly-lit... ...proprietor, Alan... ...disembodied Elvish singing voice... |
Tome of the Soft-Step Trial
[The ancient tome advises Sharran initiates how to triumph in the Soft-step trial - they must excel in some of Lady Shar's most cherished arts, such as stealth, lockpicking, disarming and evasion. The unsubtle are destined to fail.] |
Tome of the Self-Same Trial
[A dusty tome advising Sharran initiates on how to please the Nightsinger by succeeding the Self-Same trial. Initiates must ensure they defeat their mirror image. Any violence meted out to others will be penalised.] |
Tome of the Faith-leap Trial
Your tongue may claim to have complete faith in Lady Shar, but does your heart follow suit? Dare you trust your instincts, and navigate her sacred darkness with only your faith to protect you? For those who believe, the darkness is a holy path that leads to the Nightsinger's embrace. For those of weak faith, it shall become hungry, pitiless maw, intent on swallowing you whole. Tread only where Lady Shar bids you to, and you shall have nothing to fear. |
Tombstone Shop Notes
I'd come across several pointers toward the Candulhallow's Tombstones shop, so I decided to use my spare time for a while to watch it for suspicious activity. Indeed, the place is strange: it seems disconnected from Candulhallow's main mortuary business over in Eastway, in fact they don't seem to sell anything at all. There's one callow shop lad who hangs about looking bored, otherwise there's just the occasional customer who enters and then stays inside for a while, sometimes for hours. When they leave, these customers seem different somehow, I'd swear I saw one go in and out in the same clothes but leave wearing a different face. Must stay alert, I think the shop lad may have noticed me hanging around. I'll give this observation just one more day. |
Tollhouse Ledger (Risen Road)
[A ledger containing details of a tollhouse’s takings for the current year, 1492 DR. Most entries are neatly written, listing the travellers and the amount of gold paid, but the text on the most recent page is smudged and rambling.] 9 Marpenoth: four merchants, with single wagon of sundries - 25 gold. 12 Marpenoth: Flaming Fist Company, fifteen Fists and Gauntlet - 100 gold fee waived. Fist don't pay tolls, they extort. 21 Marpenoth: brewer and two guards, bringing kegs to Waukeen's Rest - 35 gold. 2 Uktar: seven farmers, no goods, no gold. Wounded. Warned us to leave. 3 Uktar: sent courier to request extra guards or relief 7 Uktar: more farmers too many to count. no goods. carrying their own dead 11 Uktar: road untenable 16 Uktar: preparing to abandon post |
Tollhouse Ledger (Reithwin)
[An official record of traders and goods passing through Reithwin, as well as the tolls collected, organised by date. Every entry is made with precise strokes, and each page stamped with a wax seal bearing the letters 'GT'. As the pages progress, the number of recorded traders - and the collected toll - dramatically dwindles.] |
To Take Control
Gortash Private Memoir Notes, Number 9 To Take Control We were deep in Mephisto's vault, burgling the Crown of Karsus, when I saw next to the crown that the wily archdevil had a portfolio labelled 'Accelerated Grand Design'. I couldn't resist taking that as well. The portfolio contained plans compiled by a mad alhoon known only as Blue Apex for a version of the illithid resurgence, a Grand Design that called for mass tadpoling of both friends and enemies - but not to convert the tadpoled into mind flayers, but rather to suspend that ceremorphosis under powerful magic to create a vast and unconscious hive mind commanded by an enhanced elder brain. My mind, trained in the tyrannical tenets of Bane, instantly saw that this was a means to perpetrate a powerful religious hoax, a mass movement controlled, ultimately, by none other than myself. For who but the Chosen of Bane could master so grand a scheme? |
Threadbare Book
[This threadbare book looks like it once contained a play, but most of it has been lost to time, vermin, and an unfortunate ink spill. Only two full sentences are distinguishable.] How can I trust? How will I ever know? How can I show myself, my darkest me? |
Therapeutics
[An excerpt from Margritt Oji's Therapeutics] Discussions with the oneiromancer yield nothing of merit so far. New incense and hallucinogens trigger nothing. Another fruitless day. Something's happened. The oneiromancer ingested something one of her own clients recommended. She refuses to divulge the name of the substance. But her dreams were scrawled on the nearby blank canvas as we'd intentioned. Here is what the painting shows: [Depictions follow of weird lumbering shapes sailing over cities, metal windmills attached to their sides, and here, oblongs fitted with wheels tearing locomotive across a track, and here, a mechanised person waving directly at the viewer.] |
The Would-Be Saint
[The book tells the story of a patriar woman who gave up her fortune to become a cleric of Ilmater in service in the Outer City and now seeks to be canonised after her death.] Herein is the full of true account of my bid to be canonised after my death as Saint Brigid of Ilmater, the Broken God, he of Compassion and Mercy, the One who Endures. I lived a blessed life of every privilege a patriar woman can fathom; my parents were loving and generous, my community warm; our larder was always full to bursting. But in the years after the death of Sarevok, my eyes were opened to the world as it is – a world of pain and danger. A world where evil, if left unchecked, can thrive. I realised that my blessings had a cost – why had I so much where others had so little?. I could no longer remain in the gilded Elysium of the Upper City and sought to see the world as it truly was. |
The Wonders of Phandalin
In this year, 950 DR, there can hardly be a more prosperous and fortunate town than Phandalin! Phandelver's Pact has brought prosperity to this land, splitting the wonders of Wave Echo Cave between gnomes and dwarves. The town now boasts thriving communities of both peoples, living and working together in harmony. We have also tempted human spellweavers from all across the north to our town, who are happy to work side-by-side with the allies of Phandelver's Pact. Mayor Alderleaf invites you to come and witness this miracle yourself. See the powers being uncovered in the Forge of Spells and the prosperity this power brings! I daresay Neverwinter will soon have a new rival for the title of 'Jewel of the North'. |
The Well-Tended Garden
[A non-denominational guide to gardening for faithful folk.] Whomever you pop your prayers toward, everyone needs healing - and you can't afford a blessing or miracle for every scraped knee. That's where the most holy art of planting shrubs comes in. What to grow: HEALING Rogue's Morsel: Best grown in the dark and dusk, you can even plant these in cellars! Amazing. Balsam: A spindly flower that takes well to tall and chilly climes. Yellow Musk Creeper: Now, these ones are a tad... difficult. They do feed on human corpses, which doesn't fit in with an awful lot of faiths. But think about it - really cuts down on graveyard space! What to grow: POISONS Mugwort: This stuff cures any poison when refined right - but it does smell awful powerful. Stink out a whole temple, this will. |
The Ways of the Heart: An Introduction
[A self-help volume, claiming to be able to help the timid and weak-spirited find their inner strength.] Not everyone needs to be a hero, but all hearts need courage just as all stomachs need food. But what if you find yourself denied your measure? What if fear and doubt grips you all-too-easily? You must stand fast and face your fears resolutely. Do not flee, or take desperate, futile action. Present your best self to the world, and soon your heart shall believe in it also. |
The Way of the Wanderer
How to convey that which I know, deep within myself, to be true? Would that I could bring each of you reading these words into this head of mine, this heart of mine, feeling as one. perhaps then I could speak what words fail to describe. That home isn't home unless you're far from home. That love isn't love unless it unleashes you. That the sky is infinitely big as long as you can always see it. Do I make sense? I think not. But perhaps the peripatetic patter of these words can create some rhythm approximating the joy of feet on road, with naught but everything ahead. |
The Watch and the Steel Watch
Famously - or perhaps notoriously - the mercenary force known as The Flaming Fist handles Baldur's Gate's law enforcement duties in the Lower City and Outer City, including Wyrm's Crossing. But what about the exclusive Upper City, home to the wealthy and powerful? There, order is kept by a highly disciplined force simply called the Watch. Though derrided by the Fists as mere toy-soldier bodyguards to the city's partriars, spit-and-polish phonies who won't get their hands dirty fighting real crime, the truth is quite different - as you'll find in short order if you break the law in the Upper City. The Watch are well-trained and authorised to use lethal force if patriars are threatened. Which brings us to the Steel Watch, those new clanking automatons that share their name with the guardians of the Upper City but to date have only been deployed in support of the Flaming Fist. Their creator, Lord Gortash, has stated that his watchers are intended to help protect all of Baldur's Gate - but it seems the Marshal of the Watch Citadel is sceptical and waiting for proof before admitting them to a role in the Upper City. |
The Warrior of Love
[This compendium of smutty tales advertises itself on the back.] 'A Paladin of Sune gets a summons from their Goddess: a mission to lie with someone from every town in the Sword Coast, to prove their devotion to love!' |
The War between Selûne and Shar
[A dusty volume that speaks of the conflict between the sibling goddesses Selûne and Shar, after Selûne ignited the sun and brought life-sustaining light and warmth to the universe.] |
The Waning Moon: Consignments
[The Waning Moon's deliveries are recorded here in a careful hand. The rear pages, however, are devoted to the distiller's personal reflections.] 10 Tarsahk Father Ketheric's reach begins to extend beyond Reithwin's borders. The Thorms are but collectors: collectors of coin, glory, blood, and more yet. I, however, collected that which holds the most value: information. The Mason caught my eye. Straight are his steps and faithful are his words, for as long as drink does not touch his tongue. Two drops of Blackfire whiskey, and he sings his heart's true tune. He calls Father a tyrant, a coward, a traitor. He beseeches the Moonmaiden to shine upon him once more. Dangerous words. I have told Father; he will surely silence the Mason and make him an example. Meanwhile, the Mason drawls his heresy. It is all I can do not to mock him to his very face. 6 Flamerule My own methods, used against me! The ale she fed me was poisoned - and by my own hand! My truth serum was all too effective. I professed the lot: the poisoned drinks, Malus' 'treatments', the interrogations - all of it. She means to reveal our 'schemes' to the Baldur's Gate authorities. Unless, of course, I grace her palm with more gold than Gerringothe could muster. Father would have my head if he knew - or worse yet, donate me to Malus. Such is my good fortune that I possess all manner of barrels. She should make a perfect fit. 23 Elient The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a foll for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means. |
The Velkynvelve Pursuit
[A detailed history of the Velkynvelve pursuit, led by the Drow priestess Ilvara of Lolth.] |
The Unclaimed
In life, her service had been impeccable. Daily did she devote herself to the Lady of Loss. Daily did she free herself from the tyranny of memory. All, in time, was lost to her - her relations, her preferences, even her own name. Upon the altar of her devotion placed she the ultimate offering: her emptied mind. And when she died, when she awoke in death and found herself standing in the pale and faded City of Judgement, she waited for the Lady of Loss to retrieve her. A million souls and more passed her in colourless gusts, but no hand materialised in her hand; no voice whispered instruction in her ear; no guidance proffered itself from the bleached and barren sky. Time, immaterial time, passed around her like air, coming and going. And still, the goddess did not come for Her devotee. Kelemvor pitied her, as much as the Lord of the Dead is able, but could not intervene. This cleric of the Lady of Loss, unclaimed despite her worthiness, might yet have one more lesson to learn: that not of forgetting, but being forgotten. |
The Ultimate State
What is progress? Progress is the movement of society and culture towards a state of collective unity. Without unity, mortals, each with their own individual agenda, blunder against each other, causing friction, conflict, war. Unity - peace and prosperity - is achieved when the collective follows a single agenda, that of one superior person. Runaway egocentrism, that urge often miscalled 'free will', is the one true enemy of Unity. Free will must be eliminated. Control of the brain is the key. The Netherese tadpole is the perfect tool. Tadpoled, the brain is freed of egocentrism to follow the agenda of Unity. The tadpoled brain is a happy brain. There is no conflict, except against the enemies of Unity. And the brain is all you need - once freed from its agendas of 'free will', it can also be freed from the frailities of the mortal form. The brain can live forever in a steel body, or even better, control that body from afar. This is progress. This is the Ultimate State. - Lord Enver Gortash |
The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, Vol. 4
[An excerpt from The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, a pulp serial following the 'real-life' exploits of an interplanar ship's captain. The real Captain Morrow is known never to have left her native Waterdeep, and emerges from her rooms at the Yawning Portal only to exchange scrawled manuscripts for fresh meals and ink.] It is quite a feeling, to fall forever. Of course, 'fall' does not exactly describe it, nor indeed does 'fly'. Each patch of sky in the Elemental Plane of Air is bound by no laws but its own, rendering petty attempts at direction or definition meaningless. It is exactly this ferocious freedom that makes a plunge through the eternal blue the only way I've learned to truly relax. 'You seem distracted,' observed Erules, shouting to be heard over the howling wind. That the goblin could so easily pierce my inscrutable façade was no surprise to me, for she is a sage of considerable wisdom, and a lifelong friend to boot. 'I am,' I acknowledged, expertly adjusting my posture to avoid a drifting aarakocra nest. 'Lord Primus was forewarned of my contract to infiltrate his Mind Palace. I had to leave my entire crew on Mechanus just to escape alive.' I could sense her frown beneath the bleached bone skull that eternally obscured her face. It was an affectation of her monastic order, and just one of the many things I had never truly understood about her. 'All perished? Surely the traitor was among them.' 'Perished? Oh, no - I traded them. Lord Primus wished to study mortal mannerisms, and he was most forthcoming with the identity of my betrayer in return.' I reached out across the divide and slipped from her finger the Ring of Command. With the loss of the magical item she instantly ceased to fly, and began to fall in earnest. A subtle distinction, but an important one. Her screams were already lost to the whipping wind by the time New Bride loomed into view. I climbed aboard, weighing the ring in my palm. Its exact twin was nestled upon my own finger, forged by Erules many moons ago as a symbol of our undying friendship. Worry not, dear reader - she is my friend still, and it is fully my intention to return and catch her. Some day. |
The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, Vol. 3
Much is made of Barovia's gloomy climate. It is said the mists there confuse the mind and torment the soul, binding travellers in a grip of such despair that escape is impossible to contemplate. As the New Bride parted that heavy fog, I confess that I felt no such malaise beyond the onset of a rather stuffy nose. The same, I fear, could not be said of my crew. Among those who had not already cast themselves overboard, the gibbering and weeping became such that I was forced to bind them to the mast entire, and navigate my fair Bride alone. I went in search of that plane's dark master, having been informed that even my ship could not hope to breach the planar boundaries without permission. And so I probed the mists, defiant at the helm and belting out a lively shanty of my own composition The invitation did not long go unanswered. He appeared like the passing of a shadow overhead, sudden and terrifying. Or certainly, that was his intention - but once the mutual assurances of destruction were dispensed with, we found in one another kindred spirits, and fell to conversing in earnest. At length, a price for my passage was agreed. Of that price, and that man, I will say only this: he is surprisingly excellent company, given the stories - and the teeth do not get in the way nearly so much as one would think. |
The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, Vol. 2
[An excerpt from The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow a pulp serial following the 'real-life' exploits of an interplanar ship's captain. The real Captain Morrow is known never to have left her native Waterdeep and emerges from her rooms at the Yawning Portal only to exchange scrawled manuscripts for fresh meals and ink.] And thus in the light of the Feywild's ne'er-setting sun, we passed into the land of the eladrin. My astute resolution to sail around their forests was betrayed - it seems to me that the river itself conspired to change course, bringing the New Bride into the shadow of the trees that I might see those dancing figures up close. The form of the eladrin - with which I am now intimately familiar - is that of elves as seen in a fever dream. Slender as wands and with hair of every changeable hue, their moods mirror that fey wilderness from which they spring - one moment gentle as a still pond, the next inexorable and deadly as a falling mountain. The latter I experienced only after spending many agreeable hours (or perhaps seasons) among them. A halfling woman, employed among my crew as a smith, dared to raise her voice in song above that of our hosts. The depth of the insult became clear as the forest fell into silence, and it was only quick thinking on my part that delivered a compromise. When we left it was without our smith, and the only sound was the solitary ring of her hammer as she endeavoured to forge a blade that would sing for the eladrin more sweetly than she. It has been some centuries since - I hope she has succeeded by now. |
The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, Vol. 1
His red dragon thus dispatched, the knight had no choice but to leap for my ship, crashing to the New Bride's deck even as his mount was swallowed by the eerie gloom of the Astral Plane's shifting tides. Faithful Norls was upon him instantaneously, clawing and biting - alas, in vain. Astral projection thwarts even the fury of a Tabaxi cabin-boy, and the treacherous githyanki only laughed as Norls' formless blows passed harmlessly through him. The knight's silver sword came about in an arc that missed Norls entirely - but neatly clipped the spiritual cord anchoring the Tabaxi's stalwart soul to the plane. I mourned as my faithful feline companion faded from existence - but did not hesitate. The githyanki only smirked lazily at my charge, anticipating the futile efforts of another bound by the laws of this plane - but that is not and has never been Captain Tenebrux Morrow. Unlike poor Norls, I had entered this plane in my full-fleshed form; a fact I demonstrated by thumping the warrior solidly between the legs. He tumbled over the New Bride's rail and down into the mists, even as a fresh horde of dragons rose from the distant dead citadel of Tu'narath. |
The Triad for Children
[This light read for younger worshippers opens on the following adage.] On the First Day, Tyr saw the world's injustice, though his eyes were blind. On the Second Day, Torm was slain and returned to serve the truth. On the Third Day, Ilmater wept for all that came before - and all that was to come. |
The Tourmaline Depths
The Tourmaline Depths, by Lady Incognita It was master vampire Donnela Szarr who reopened the vast blue-green halls beneath Baldur's Gate and brought them under our control, but what is the history of this subterranean expanse, and how far back does it go? Not even Donnella the Architect knew for certain, but in her notebooks she speculated that the Depths were originally dwarven-built by exiles from Bhaerynden, though she admitted she was no scholar of dwarven history. 'Thought deeply delved, the halls were certainly more of an outpost than a city,' Donnela wrote, 'though if it was established as a facility over a mine - what were the dwarves mining here?' A larger question in this writer's mind is, how did these abandoned depths go undiscovered for so long under a great city like Baldur's Gate? Were they deliberately hidden by some kind of persistent glamour that finally wore off? We may never know. |
The Tharchiate Codex
[The pages are covered in esoteric symbols and strange runes, some indecipherable, but some strangely familiar. Your eyes are drawn to one page, describing a long-lost book.] The Necromancy of Thay There are secrets of life and death known only to the Red Wizards. Committing such secrets to parchment is a risk they are loath to take, lest the unworthy gaze upon them. Who better, then, to guard their secrets, than the spirits of the jealous dead themselves? To look upon the Necromancy of Thay is to risk madness at the hands of its spirits. But the wise traveller, who can tread the line between life and death, will find knowledge witnessed by precious few mortals... [The rest of the entry details the precautions and risks associated with reading the text, but lays out a clear path to unravelling the secrets contained in this tome.] |
The Surprising Habits of Kara-Turian Warlords
[A curious self-help tome that claims to help those who have disappointed their elders. It seems to have been hastily printed and bound, and strikes an oddly harsh tone.] Alas, poor reader, not everyone can improve themselves without the help of others. Some need the instruction of an elder - a steadying, authoritative hand that can mete out guidance and discipline in equal measure. Honour your elders, dear reader. Be mindful of their lessons, deferential to their desires, and grateful for their discipline. Be of service to them, even when you think you are at odds with them. [The book drones on, dispensing suspect advice that advocates for utter obedience, before imploring the reader to seek further help at the House of Grief.] |
The Superior Durability of Hardwood
Odd Valros' deluxe hardwood coffins will preserve corpses from rats and maggots for up to three times longer than any competitors! Choose Valros, because the end is always near! |
The Suffering Masses
To salve a scar or stitch a broken seam of skin is simple. But a curative for the soul? For the malaise of suffering that sits betwixt one's ears and in one's heart? That is a harder balm to apply. We faithful tormented must practise listening most intently, in hope that the act of spilling sorrow from stuttering mouths is itself soothing. We must learn which words to speak in fetid silence, and when to speak them, but most of all when to let tranquil reflection be. |
The Stone Lord: A New Threat
[A detailed report on the rise of the Stone Lord.] ... judging by the targeting of known Guild enterprises and the murder of prolific Guild members, it is my professional conclusion that a new player has gained a foothold of the city's underbelly: the Stone Lord. My sources suggest that Ninefingers and the Guild still hold power, but the Stone Lord is pressing aggressively on her territory. This is not a case of a petty turf war - this is a fight for the throne in the city's underworld, one that could easily spill out onto the city if ignored. |
The Soul Forger
[Introduction to The Soul Forger] Dwarven myths are so engaging because the skeleton of their story is tied to a craft of the modern era. The bones are made of steel, iron, nickel, copper, a whole hostt of metals alloyed and superheated and fused together at the joints of legend. Moradin, Soul Forger, All-Father, is said to have crafted the dwarven species from the very core of the planet Abeir-Toril. By retelling this story, dwarves link themselves to the craft of blacksmithing; they have in one fell swoop tapped an ore-vein of metaphor and discovered a seam of cultural import. For dwarves are not born so industrious, so stoneworthy, so clever at geology. Rather, unlike the growth of long bushy beards, it is learned behaviour. |
The Shattered Seldarine
[An excerpt from The Shattered Seldarine, produced by the Silverhair Knights for distribution in Eilistraee's temples.] While some modern philosophers blame the fall of our people on infighting, Lolth's betrayal cannot be understated. Yes, it was the drow's choice to believe her lie that Corellon Larethian had turned from us, but they did not try and dissuade our ancestors of that belief, now did they? Corellon's silence was a betrayal too. Records show that few comprehended the depths of Lolth's evil intentions. To be stolen from our homeland and have our bloodline split asunder was something only the most sadistic would agree to - those cruel heralds became her first cultists. They sowed her seeds into the very foundations of Menzoberranzan, and that city has produced wicked fruit ever since. At the time of this writing, we remain at war. The drow are not simply divided in two - we are fractured entirely, split along as many allegiances as we have cities. There are far too many brave and kind warriors putting blades to each other's throats. The Underdark has changed us for good, but perhaps when Lolth falls, the Seldarine faithful will be welcome in Corellon's halls again. At least Eilistraee is kind enough to share our exile and watch over us until that day comes. |
The Shadow Weave
[A cautious treatise on the power of the Shadow Weave. The author talks about the formation of the Shadow Weave as a counterpart to Mystra's Weave. The Shadow version is in some ways more potent as a source of magic, but it's also unreliable and volatile. Shar, mistress of shadow, has a much more fickle nature than Mystra, and according to the author this manifests as a seemingly fraught and dangerous position as vigilant - dangerous to those who tap into her font of arcane excess, that is.] |
The Sea Queen's Wrath
Long has the Water Queen's House served to retain the city's favour in the eyes of Umberlee, whose waves move the ships tthat form the body of the city itself. Baldur's Gate position on the Sword Coast makes it the heart of local commerce, but Queen Umberlee could easily drown the city in salt if she so chose. Dedications offered at her temple maintain crucial peace in the region and create a tempting stopping-point for sailors-through to come ashore and rest upon the bosom of her mercy. But if you cross the Sea Bitch, you may pay for it by a visit from her savage sahuagin servants. |
The Screed of the Willing
Honesty, love, wrath - many traits are 'divine'. There is only one that we possess and the gods do not: pain. Our most holy mistress invites us to revel in that which makes us mortal. To embrace pain, so she may look upon us and know we are truly living. For what is a life without the sting of agony? Without the anguish of heartbreak? It is a life unlived - a life wasted hiding from the joys of the world. In Loviatar's name, I ask you to live. To dig your nails into your skin and know that you are alive. To know that the greater the pain, the more exalted the life. Whether your pain comes from claws, the scourge, or an ache in your soul, know that our Maiden is watching over you. She sees your suffering. And she loves you for it. |
The Rumour of Reithwin
The Rumour of Reithwin Author: Unknown Land of darkness, land of gold, Land of Sharran soldiers bold. The tollhouse countless riches keeps, Where darkest shadow curse still creeps. The greatest treasures of them all Lurks deep within sepulchre's walls. Tomb of Thorm, O veiled by night, Reveal the means of Keth'ric's might. [Scribbled beneath the final verse:] IT'S TRUE. ALL OF IT. |
The Roads to Darkness
THE ROADS TO DARKNESS An epic tragedy about power, corruption, and loneliness PROLOGUE. A lonely road. Thunder and lightning. Enter Soreth SORETH: New sounds through damp and dark oppression break Is it the foe, that foul, contemptuous heel? Or art thou friend, a rescue from my lonely wake? Come out of love for me, not love for blood and steel. Enter Rysia RYSIA: How would I know, how would I know, Soreth? It's been so long, what do I know of you And you of me? Wait - do you hear that sound? Enter Amphius AMPHIUS: What's this? Those figures so familiar both But still you seem so strange. It's Amphius. Dear Amphius! What happened to your face? It's pale as death. Your eyes are black as Shar. And you? I saw your teeth, they're sharp as blades. And what is with this road, so slick with blood? What happened here? What happened to us all? Exeunt END PROLOGUE ACT I. Ten years prior. [The rest of the play tells the tale of three elven friends, their paths to power, and how - corrupted, mad, and lonely - they killed each other.] |
The Rest of My Life
The last few tendays since I made the deal with the Gloom Crone have been the happiest I've ever known. 'Enough gold to last the rest of your life', she promised, and every day I've hefted those heavy, clinking bags and been satisfied with my lot. But I didn't want to just feel it, I wanted to see it, so last night I opened the sacks and discovered the Crone's trick - six actual gold pieces, while the rest of the coins, thousands of them, were nothing but worthless dross. I chucked them over the side in the dark, but then I suddenly felt ill. Well, who wouldn't? But something is scratching and making noise in my baggage, something bigger than a rat. And I'm afraid to see what it is. |
The Red Knight's Final Stratagem
Before her time as an exarch of Tempus and goddess of Strategy, the Red Knight was a paladin most devout. She toured armies the world over as both student and teacher, and thus war she elevated by Tempus to her current status. These pages contain that of her which was left on the material plane after her ascension. |
The Realm According to Bumpo
[The book naturally falls to a dog-eared page in which Bumpo describes the more unusual races he's met in his travels.] ... but they weren't half so strange as the bird folk. First aarakocra I met had the head of a parrot, the body of a human, and wings also of a parrot. I tried not to stare but it was real hard. Turns out she was one of a motley party, cause around her table were a tabaxi (cat folk), a genasi (element folk), and a tortle (turtle folk). Trying to act casual, I asked what they hell they all were. They ignored me, but I can't blame 'em. To them I must've looked awfully dull and average, for they were the first of their kind I'd seen, but I was just one of a billion boring humans to them. |
The Quarta Sune
[An excerpt from 'The Quarta Sune: A Guide to Sexuality, Eroticism, and Emotional Fulfilment. Detailed diagrams accompany every page.] On your journey to sensual alignment, treat each passionate encounter as a dance - your movements should flow from one to another, like a river through the mountains. For instance, it would likely be uncomfortable for you and your partner (or partners) to move immediately from the 'Bugbear Bend' into the 'Underdark Choke'. Instead, after strenuous positions, gentler ones such as 'Threading the Weave', or 'Transitive Plane' are encouraged. It is also important to treat your partner's care post-encounter as the final step to this dance - recipes for scented oils for exhausted muscles, tea blends for sore throats, and massage tips can all be found in later chapters. |
The Purged Palate, Midwinter Edition
[A series of recipes, accompanied by anecdotes about the meals in question.] This is a twist on the traditional dwarven eaglach stew. Those non-dwarven who can't translate that, don't bother - no point frightening yourselves. Just make sure that once you've burned the alcohol away, do not add the drider venom. Substitute it with some other sour - whatever agrees with your milky constitution. As to how I discovered this one - back during my watchman days, a drow thief I caught spiked my supper. The look on his face when I quaffed it down was near as good as the stew! |
The Ptarian Code
[The Ptarian Code, handwritten by Havkelaag.] Justice and Good above all. Honour and Fealty to the King. Honour and Respect to Righteous Innocence. Honour and Duty to the Balancer Kelemvor, to His Mercy Ilmater, and to the Justicemaker Bahamut. Honour and Protection to the Lesser Species. Honour and Correction to the Enemies of Justice and Good. Honour and Forbearance for oneself. |
The Pronunciation of Common for Monstrous Species: A Guide for Pedagogues
[A guide for teachers on the most effective ways to teach the pronunciation of Common to monstrous species.] CONTENTS Introduction: A Methodical Approach to the Acquisition of Oral Fluency Chapter I - Basic Rules of Phonics Chapter II - Vowels Chapter III - Combining Consonants Chapter IV - Practice Exercises Chapter V - Further Guidance Chapter VI - Species-specific Challenges |
The Power of the Crown
[All one hundred chapters of this dense book describe the coronation of Raphael as Archdevil Supreme of the Nine Hells, but the circumstances vary in each case. Some versions are written as if historical fact, others are imagined futures, but all end with Raphael wearing the Crown of Karsus. One in particular catches your attention.] In the end, it was the Prism-Bearers who came to him seeking salvation, and he laid out a course for their survival. They would be free of the parasite, the Sword Coast would be cleansed of illithids, and Raphael would receive the Crown for his part in the victory. From the moment he met them, it was inevitable. The Realms would weep to see his glory. |
The Pilgrimage to Gravenhollow
[A personal account of the pilgrimage to Gravenhollow undertaken by members of the Society of Brilliance in the early 1490s DR, as told by the troglodyte Skriss, including the story of Ghazrim's Ring. Dedicated to the families of the members who ventured bravely in pursuit of knowledge and never returned. Published in the original Undercommon. Later translated to Common.] |
The Parables of Dawnmaster Vaseid
[An epic-looking tome that opens with an illustrated panel of Dawnmaster Vaseid riding into battle against an army of Sharran clerics. In his raised hand, his trusted battleaxe, its sharp edge glinting in Lathander's light.] |
The One that Got A Thay
[The text written on the back of this smut advertises it.] 'A slow-paced enemies-to-lovers tale featuring a bitter Archwizard of Thay and his nemesis, a pure-hearted, muscled berserker.' |
The Needled Book
[A book on advanced dressmaking, fitted with materials like spare needles, measures, and patterns. It
is riddled with hand-written annotations, and most of its accoutrement have been removed.] |
The Mountain Is You
[A self-help book promoting the use of corporal punishment for naughty children.] |
The Most Holy Sermons of Lashbearer Catrine
[The collected sermons of Lashbearer Catrine, commissioned on her ascension from Open Hand Temple High Priest to the House of the Broken God's Revered Mistress.] Oh, piteous tormented, we live in wretched times. So eager is our populace to beg succour from the city's teat, and so readily is such succour available, that our Broken God is seldom lamented to. The weeping of the fetid masses should fail righteously onto the blood-burned ears of Ilmater, not into the hands of useless bureaucrats. [...] A query often went on the tongue of Ilmater's loyal wretches is thus: 'Who does He bid us aid? How must we aid them?' The answer is simple. We must give these sordid souls the tools to aid themselves - a working knowledge of the Ilmatari creeds. Unless these unfortunates know to channel their suffering towards the Crying God, how is he supposed to intercede for them? Think upon these words, my children. |
The Mortal View: Eyewitness Accounts of the Bhaalspawn Crisis
[The guild seal on the inside of the cover belongs to a printmaking collective in Baldur's Gate.] 'Of course I remember. Knew the second that girl was walking that she'd be trouble. Little thief, always in everyone's business. And that ward of Gorion went right along with her. Nor surprise a wicked god's blood was running in their veins.'
-Anonymous, Candlekeep 'Sarevok and his lot are always the first ones that come to mind. You know this all started with a bit of iron in Nashkel? Everyone thought their weapons would rot out of their hands. Back then, I thought the problem was bad trade. Never took the man for a son of Bhaal.'
- Amnian Mercenary, interviewed on his deathbed 'You dare speak that name to me? My mistress was turned to ash fighting those forsaken wretches. I curse Bhaal, I curse Irenicus, and I curse you!'
- Hostile Vampire, Athkatla Slums 'The Five tore Tethyr to pieces. I don't think anyone expected more Bhaalspawn showing up would fix the war that a pack of them started. Then again, they were all inclined to killing each other, eh? Good riddance. Here's hoping every last one of them has been wiped off the face of Faerûn.'
- Saradush Merchant, retired 'I'm not authorized to be talking about any murder with someone like you. Take it up at the Seatower if you want to argue. But honestly, who cares if a Bhaalspawn got it stuck to them? Their father's the killing type, after all.'
- Flaming Fist Gauntlet, Baldur's Gate [Several hundred more interviews follow, most of them terse.] |
The Many Tales of Mother Campestri
[An excerpt from a book of short, but terribly outdated tales for children, told by Mother Campestri.] The Hungry Bullywug. Once, there lived a Bullywug whose name was Billy. His clothes were ragged, he never washed, and he spoke in tongues tthat nobody could ever understand. But the worst thing about Billy was that he was always hungry. First he are all the food that was in his village, then he moved on to villages nearby. Soon, the entire rergion was starving because Billy could never have enough. Villagers offered to teach Billy how to farm, but Billy was lazy. Billy only ever wanntetd to live off the kindness of others. So that is what he did. One day, the villagers decided they'd had enough. They had been forced to live off their s upplies for months, and were sick of it. And Billy, having gotten fat from eating all of their food, had started to look rather appetising himself. |
The Many Faces of Gond
[An excerpt from a history of Gond - the Lord of All Smiths.] What is in a name? Many things, in fact - especially when it comes to Gond. While the gods are no strangers to changing their titles (Mystra, make up your mind!), few can compete with the Lord of All Smiths. Boasting no less than dix secret names (Aranlaerus, Balateng, Daerosdaeros, Klannauda, Mrangor, and Tattaba - covered in chapter eighty-five), the gnomes were not content with this. Instead, they chose their own name for Gond. Nebelun. |
The Lustrous Lass
When the Fist Manip said he wanted me to check out a Lustrous Lass, I didn't realize that was a ship's name and almost said something regrettable. But when he said the vessel was under quarantine after drifting in to harbour with a dead crew, I realised Ilmater had a task for me. The crew were dead indeed, of poison or pestilence, but what killed them? I found a wicker basket of rotting fruit of a kind I didn't recognise - could that be it? There's an aura of wickedness here that belies mere death by food poisoning. I must search more thoroughly, but all of a sudden I'm feeling tired. Very tired. |
The Lost Tomb of Khaem
[A book of research notes concerning the lost tomb of the half-elf sorceror Brysis of Khaem, the halfling Fargas Rumblefoot, and various attempts to locate the true tomb throughout the Society's history.] |
The Lords of Madness, Vol 4: Yeenoghu
Of all the demon lords, few have made their mark on the world as firmly as Yeenoghu. Though his ravenous hunger is claimed to be a mindless compulsion, there is nothing mindless about the thorough insinuation of his presence in the world via his Chosen: gnolls. But how are gnolls created? First, a Chosen of Yeenoghu must do as their master wills: kill. A hyena that then feasts on the corpse of the Chosen's victim, and a gnoll is born of the glutted belly of the hyena. Gnolls thus born are hunger manifest. They ravage any living being, tearing body and bone asunder, leaving behind only bones. They care not for wealth or material gain, only to satiate their hunger. That satiation is itself an offering to Yeenoghu, funnelled directly to him. Some might envy the gnolls for such a tangible connection to their creator god, but that envy would melt to utter terror as soon as the beasts' rotting breath and wicked cackles make their way through the dark of night. If you should find yourself the object of gnollish pursuit, burn your corpses, cover your scent, and pray to whoever might aid you, for there is no bribing, begging, or reasoning with hunger incarnate. |
The Lord of Murder's Songbook
[A book of songs and psalms extolling Bhaal, the Lord of Murder.] |
The Legend of Ansur
Baldur's Gate - great Balduran's berth.
O Balduran, founder due veneration,
His guardian dragon Ansur, tremendous in worth.
A saviour below, our eternal elation. To Wyrmway 'neath prison's deepest level.
To be found by not a soul nor devil. [NOTE: Entrance in Wyrm's Rock Prison? - U.R.] With a lightning shock, a true hero's spark flickers,
The torches alight!
And wyrm's eyes shall awake aglitter. [NOTE: Something about sparks and torches. Use lightning skills? - U.R.] It's trials, no common adventurer may exceed,
When each day sends forth new ones to their fates:
But one great hero, by the founder's will decreed,
Shall, only once, grand our age the Heart of the Gate! [Note: Only a great hero can pass the trials and awaken Ansur - U.R.] |
The Leadership of the Zhentarim
[An excerpt from the ongoing Metatext: Rebound by Iosefa Elgin, a scholar excommunicated from the Church of Deneir for her heretical attempts to reconstruct the Metatext, her god's annal of lost and hidden knowledge.] Despite their protestation to the contrary, it takes no keen eye to see echoes of Banite philosophy in modern Zhentarim practice - a strict militaristic hierarchy where all power flows from the top. Who occupies that position today is the matter of some speculation, for the Black Network's leadership was thought destroyed along with their headquarters at Zhentil Keep in 1383 DR. In the following decades, however, a new base of power began to consolidate at the fortress of Darkhold, far to the south. At its centre stands the Pereghost, an enigmatic armoured figure to whom the Zhentarim's rebirth is almost single-handedly attributed. Whoever their leader, it is clear that this new Zhentarim have not abandoned plans for domination so much as recalculated their approach. Where once their focus was on the subversion and conquest of nations, the Network of today is much more concerned with establishing their stranglehold on the market - a power which crosses borders that are closed to more conventional forces. |
The Landed Families of Tethyr
[A ledger detailing the lineage of the noble families of Tethyr, abruptly cutting off at a date marked 'The Ten Black Days of Eleint'. Looping, hand-drawn diagrams pick up below, tracing tenuous connections between names. Cramped alongside, a note in the same hand:] If Jaheira won't trace her roots, then I will! |
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